


A Man, A Rat, and A Shack

by sherrold



Category: X-Files - Fandom
Genre: Cannibalism, Death, M/M, shack challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-16
Updated: 2003-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-10 12:52:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherrold/pseuds/sherrold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by Ces's "101 Ways To End Up In A Canadian Shack," but I actually got the idea for the story the day *after* they closed the challenge. Sigh. See the 101 stories that actually made the challenge deadline here: http://www.trickster.org/speranza/ShackedUp.html</p>
    </blockquote>





	A Man, A Rat, and A Shack

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Ces's "101 Ways To End Up In A Canadian Shack," but I actually got the idea for the story the day *after* they closed the challenge. Sigh. See the 101 stories that actually made the challenge deadline here: http://www.trickster.org/speranza/ShackedUp.html

When the highbeam of Mulder's flashlight showed solid walls and an unbroken roof through the gathering blizzard, Krycek let them stop for the first time since the avalanche. He aimed Mulder's arm around the room until the light glinted off an oil lamp, then left Mulder to get it started.

"Hey, kindling." More looking found rusty knives, a wood stove, an iron skillet. It would have been asking too much, he figured, to have found food too. He started a fire with the kindling and told Mulder, "Go look for firewood."

When Mulder came back, shivering and shaky, but with a large armful, Krycek had the last of the car food mangled together into a meal. Processed cheese food. Only Mulder.

 

"The bad news…"

"Is pretty obvious," Mulder said, eating the last of the crackers and peanut butter packages.

"The good news is, we've definitely gotten them off our track, and now I can call in for a pick up." He patted his high-tech leather case meaningfully. "Once the snow stops, they should be able to get here within an hour."

"Your friends. And what will they do to me?"

Krycek laughed dryly. "Nothing they couldn't do any damn day they wanted to."

"Color me reassured." They exchanged ironic smiles.

 

As they got water melted and blankets gathered, their eyes kept catching; Krycek knew they were going to do it, for once without the warm-up namecalling and abuse. Making sure Mulder wasn't looking, he dug through the almost empty leather case and palmed a tube before saying, "get over here."

They dragged the mattress in front of the fire and stripped off their snow-wet clothes, and after a few minutes, Mulder was actually sweating a little, beautiful in the firelight. Krycek unscrewed the tube, then held onto Mulder when he started to roll over. "No, stay here." He slid down a little, aligning their cocks together, pausing, thinking. If he just lubed up Mulder, he'd be committed. Awkwardly, he squeezed the lube out into his hand and slid it down over both their cocks, giving himself another minute to change his mind. Outside, the wind howled louder, making the fire waver madly.

He took a deep breath and rolled them over, spreading his legs deliberately. Mulder stared at him, surprised. "Don't say it, Mulder, just do it."

"But you don't…"

He wasn't going to answer; he couldn't keep his voice clear if he did. But he wiggled in a way universally understood as 'just fuck me", closed his eyes against Mulder's words, and waited.

But not for long.

Mulder didn't hold back, and the brief pain brought tears to his eyes. He looked away, taking deep breaths; bearing down, tightening around Mulder's cock -- something he'd never planned to feel -- making it good for him, making it good for himself. He grabbed Mulder's shoulders and rolled them over again, off the mattress onto a rough blanket on the floor. Awkwardly, he pushed himself down, impaling himself deeper, then raised his hands to Mulder's face, tracing his features in the firelight. Gasping harshly, he whispered, "Mulder, Mulder," then more quietly, "Fox."

He watched Mulder's eyes widen, his mouth drop open in pleasure. He ground his ass down hard and watched his eyes flutter. Mulder even let a tiny groan escape. Krycek reached under the blanket, pulled out his Lugar, and shot Mulder in the head.

He fell forward, sobbing as he came.

 

When the road opened up seven weeks later, all that was left were gnawed bones. He buried them before he left.

One last X-File for Scully.


End file.
